


perfect

by orphan_account



Series: Reylo/Harry Potter AU crossover [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Auror James Potter, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, F/M, Healer Ben Solo, Healer Hermione Granger, Healer Remus Lupin, Mild Language, No Voldemort, Pining, healer Rey
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-14
Updated: 2020-11-14
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:53:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27564103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Crossover Reylo/Harry Potter AU in which Ben is pining, and friends with Remus. And kinda Hermione... but he doesn't care for that prat, James Potter.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/James Potter, Remus Lupin & Lily Evans Potter, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Series: Reylo/Harry Potter AU crossover [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2018159
Comments: 23
Kudos: 24





	perfect

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tashadlv](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tashadlv/gifts).



> For you, dear friend. I hope you enjoy <3 The sequel in which James forces Ben to take him ring shopping for Hermione will follow at some point. I promise <3  
> Much thanks to Blessedindeed for her beta eye earlier this morning. All other errors are my own. 
> 
> This is purely a work of fiction and of my own imagination.

* * *

“Good afternoon, Healer Solo.”

“I’d prefer if you called me ‘Ben’.” 

“Impossible.” Rey Niima looks to the chart in his hand. Turns her head sideways and scrunches her eyes in what Ben thinks is the most adorable squinty look he’s ever seen, but he’s not at liberty to tell her that. ( _Not yet, at least.)_ “Are you finished with that chart, Healer Solo? I need it when you’re done.” 

Ben doesn’t remember who she’s talking about at the moment, but he’s done. He’s seen all his patients on this floor, so he’s technically done. 

_Technically._

The work-work is complete. 

The Rey-Work, however… 

He hands her the folder, wishing she’d take it close enough to brush her fingers over his. She doesn’t. 

So he tries again. “I would allow ‘Healer Ben’ if you’d prefer.”

She doesn’t look up from the now open folder, but Ben catches the faintest dusting of pink across her freckled cheeks. “Healer Solo,” she says with an emphasis. “It’s my first year working here, and I am technically still under probation until that time. I can’t be caught being unprofessional to a superior.” 

“I’m not a superior, though.” Ben squares his shoulders under his lime-green robes. “I’ve looked into it. I may be underhead of a department, and have seniority when on-call, but in no way am I technically your superior. We’re completely different departments, which means a different chain of command.” He leans forward. Just an inch. Lips quirked in a soft smile. “So we may be as familiar and informal with each other as we’d like.” 

“Really,” she hums. Still studying the file and still not looking at him. 

Which makes something inside him start to crumble. Crumble and wonder if all of… _this_ … these attempts at conversation and friendliness… have been useless. 

So he tries for a different tactic. 

“I would even answer to ‘Healer Kylo Ren’, if you had the notion,” he says.

The element of surprise works, and Ben’s heart immediately bursts with glee. 

Rey—Healer Niima, whatever she wants—stands there. In the hallway. Healers and Medi-Witches bustling around. Rey stands there blinking at him. Blinking and staring only at him. 

“Kylo.” _Blink_. “Ren.” _Double blink_. 

The unspoken question for explanation hangs in the silence between them. 

He lifts a shoulder, an attempt at nonchalance. As if everyone asked to be called childhood hero names. “My dad kept a lot of comic books around growing up—not that he ever actually read them—shit!” Ben shakes his head, dragging a hand through his hair. “I forgot you probably don’t know what a comic book is, sorry! It’s a No-Maj—“

“I’m Muggle-Born and know what comic books are.” Rey tilts her head, looking at him still. “I just don’t recall ever reading about Kylo Ren.” 

He smiles now. Genuine and warm. Heating him down to the toe of his shoes. “Thank you.” 

“What?” 

“I’ve just learned something non-work related about you, Healer Niima. So, now when I tell you that I’m Halfblood and read the Kylo Ren comics when I was a kid, you’ll know things about me, too. And we can be on less formal terms.” 

Rey doesn’t react. 

No, seriously. 

She’s not moving. Barely blinking. Just standing there and looking at him still. Not looking away. 

Until the folder in her hand drops to the floor. 

“Bollocks,” she mutters, dropping to pick it all up. 

“No, that’s my fault.” Ben stoops down with her, both of them apparently forgetting their magic could simply _summon_ everything up. “I distracted you.” 

Rey gives a hard shake of her head. “It wasn’t that—I mean—I wasn’t distracted—I don’t know why I—” Her lips snap closed as she takes parchments from his hands. 

And he’s distracted by how delicate and perfect they look. 

So distracted he misses when she stands and says something to him before rushing off. 

She’s disappeared into a patient’s room by the time he stands upright and comes back to his senses. 

“You’re trying, Solo. I’ll give you that.” 

Ben turns around to face the voice coming from behind. 

Remus.

Perfect—and he means that unironically. 

Remus is married. Remus is of sound mind. Remus is a good Healer. 

He likes Remus. He would even consider Remus a friend. 

“Should I give up?” he asks honestly. 

Remus opens his mouth. Closes it. Rubs his chin with his fingers. Then scratches his neck. “I don’t know. I don’t think I’m the most qualified for relationship advice. My mate, James, was mad for Lily all through school. She was with him, too, but fought it until she couldn’t anymore. They didn’t work out, but she found out she was pregnant with Harry after they’d broken up. James proposed and Lily ran away to my place. Didn’t talk to James for a month—didn’t really talk to me much either.”

Ben frowns. Slides his hands into his pockets. “How is any of this supposed to help me know what to do?” 

“I don’t know.” Remus shrugs and pulls his glasses off to clean them with his sweater—or, _jumper_ , as Ben has learned they say here. “I think you know already that it seems a happy, all-in-the-family type arrangement now. Lily and I have been married for a while now. Harry’s away at school most of the time now, but he spends time between James’ place and our home over holidays. We come together for most events now, anyways. But there was a time when it was rough. When the few words spoken were harsh barbs, and the silence was deafening.” 

“I can…” Ben doesn’t know how to finish his thought. “I know family complications. It’s part of why I moved here. I’m sorry for what you all went through.” 

“Thank you, but we’re stronger for it,” Remus answers, a genuine smile in his face. He places his glasses back on his face. “All those Gryffindors for friends, we had to know it’d be all ‘full steam ahead and damn the consequences’ with each other. And it prepared everyone for James dating Hermione, who’s only five years older than Harry.” 

“Healer Granger!” Hope floods Ben, the rest of their conversation fading into the background. “That’s who I need to find. She’s a few years ahead of Rey—she’ll know! Thanks, Remus.” 

Remus shakes his head. “I wasn’t saying _find her now_ —”

But Ben doesn’t hear anything else. 

He claps his co-worker on the shoulder and dashes to the staircase off to the side. Healer Granger is usually on the fifth floor right now, and he can dash up three flights faster than the lift could carry him. 

Data. He needs more data and second and third opinions before coming to any conclusion. 

Because nothing inside him is ready to throw in the preverbal towel when it comes to pursuing Healer Rey Niima. 

Not until she tells him outright to leave her be.

Ben snorts as he takes the staircase three at a time. Because even then, Ben has this _feeling_. This feeling about Rey. And he knows even if she asks him to stay away, he could very well be pining for a very long time after.

* * *

As it turned out, Ben needn’t have rushed. Healer Granger is busy and not to be found all morning. Ben haunts the cafeteria between patients from noon onward. He’s in luck an hour-and-a-half later. Her curls are especially wild today, and she’s hard to miss in a sea of lime green. 

She is not, however, alone. 

Auror Potter is with her. 

That makes Ben pause. And groan. And decide his need for answers is more important than his dislike of… _Potter_. 

“May I join you, Healer Granger?” he queries, motioning to the chair across from the witch. 

The witch smiles at him, giving a cordial response. “Of course. Have a seat.” 

“You don’t have a tray,” her boyfriend points out in a tone that’s the precise opposite of cordial. 

_Prick. Just like Poe._

“I’m here for personal reasons,” Ben says, a wickedly smug delight coursing through him at seeing Potter tense over _that_. But, lest anyone get the wrong idea, especially someone who would say something to Rey… “Which means I’m just Ben for now.” 

“Hermione, then.” The witch smiles, even as Potter scowls at his plate. “And you know James, of course.” 

Ben nods. “Potter.” 

“Solo,” the wizard clips back. 

Hermione gives an amused hum. “What can I do for you?” 

Ben draws a sharp breath. Onward and forward then. Answers await. “What do you know of Healer Niima?” 

“She’s competent, efficient, and thorough in her chart notes.” Hermione tilts her head. “She’s lovely, inside and out. Seems to do very well with her patients. I know she’s got her eye on an upcoming promotion, which means she’s goal oriented.” 

“Right. Yeah. Okay.” Ben’s stumped. None of these are things he doesn’t already know… and they certainly won’t help him in figuring out if he should ask her out or not. 

Not that he’s even sure how to say those words aloud. His mouth is open, but… nothing. Everything’s stuck in his throat. 

He clears his throat. Scratches the back of his neck. “D’you… know anything personal about her? Favorite book or flower or hobby?” 

“Ahhhhhhh.” Potter looks too fucking happy to be in on Ben’s vulnerability now, and it’s enough to have Ben wanting to hex in into next week. 

Hermione’s shaking her head, and that’s where Ben focuses instead. “I’m afraid not,” she says. “Our paths crossed very little at Hogwarts. She was a Gryffindor and two years behind me.” 

“Oh. I see.” 

Potter snorts and grabs his glass of water. “Just waltz right up to her and ask her out,” he interjects, taking a large gulp from his glass. 

“James, please.” Hermione takes a delicate bite of her lunch, chews, and swallows before continuing. “Just because persistence in asking worked for you on me doesn’t mean it’ll work on Rey with Ben.” 

“Why not?”

Ben isn’t sure how he feels about a conversation _about_ him now happening _without_ him while right _in front_ of him. But he’s inexperienced and, frankly, confused, too. So he doesn’t say anything else yet. 

“We were never coworkers,” Hermione explains, as if that should be obvious. And… she could possibly be onto something there. “Ben is established in his career. He was a competent Healer before coming here, and even now, he came to St. Mungo’s several months before Rey started.” 

“But I’m not her boss,” Ben protests. “She knows I’m not. I’m not even her boss’ boss. She’s not a subordinate. I’m just an older Healer in some branch no one cares about, trying to eventually work his way into full time research.” 

“She may not see a difference in all that.” Hermione sips her water next. Then gives her boyfriend a side glance. “But James is right about one thing.” 

“I am?” 

“You are.” She leans in and kisses his cheek in a tender way that makes Ben feel like an intruder now. She continues, “You should talk to her.” 

“I do.” 

“Directly? About things more personal than patients and work?”

Ben huffs. “I try. She keeps it short and gets back to business or gets flustered and mumbles something about work to do.” 

“You’re in,” Potter declares. Then proceeds to ‘stuff his gob’ (as the saying goes) with a large handful of crisps. 

Ben looks to Hermione, brow arched in question.

The witch lifts a shoulder. “It’s something she’s not shutting you down completely.” 

“So I just… go up to her sometime and say, ‘Healer Niima, I have what I think may be very strong feelings for you and I was wondering if you’d like to have a coffee or tea to discuss said feelings.’”

“Yes!” Potter exclaims. 

“No!” Hermione bursts with equal fervor. “Merlin, _no_.”

Ben looks between them in confusion. Genuine confusion. Because between the ones who wanted him for his family name and legacy, an equal amount also despised him for the same reasons. So there never really _has_ been someone… special. 

Not like Rey is. 

Not like he thinks she could be, too.

Potter sits across the table smirking. Ben wishes he would just disappear, because the only one who’s opinion means anything is pinching the bridge of her nose in 

“Gryffindors pride themselves in being the brave and brash ones,” she says, “but they don’t necessarily enjoy having that same behavior thrown back at them. Find the middle ground between what you’ve just said and what you’ve been doing. Greet her when you see her. Smile, too—you have a brilliant smile.” 

“He does?!” 

“Not as dazzling as yours, James.” She laces her fingers through his. “See? Brash, but sometimes insecure. She may have some things in herself that keep her from thinking of you as an option. Give her time to see if that’s the case. Small things. Maybe even some notes in her employee cubby.” 

“Okay.” He can do that. He thinks he can, at least. Worth a try. “Thanks, Hermione.” 

“You’re welcome.” He’s about to get up, but the witch across from him bites down on her lip as her brows furrow. “I don’t know if I should tell you this or not, but…” 

“But…?” Never before had a single word meant so much to hear. 

“ _Buuuuuuuut..?_ ” Potter sings, sitting there waggling his eyebrows like the buffoon he is, and to her credit, Hermione seems to ignore him. 

“Oh, hang it all.” Hermione blows out a breath and tucks several curls behind her ear. “I’ve heard her say she thinks you’re very fit. And she was blushing when she said it, too. And before anyone accuses me of betraying a confidence, I’m not. She was talking to someone else in the hallway, and I happened to be walking behind them and overheard it.” 

“But you said she was blushing.” Potter leans into his witch, his look full of dark humour.

“I decided to pass them before anything else personal was said, and she was still flushed when I spoke up and our eyes met.” 

Potter decides that’s enough ammunition to continue reading his witch, and Ben knows it’s time to leave now. 

He feels a little better over it all as he does, though.

* * *

He tries for that—small things that is. 

She insists on ‘Healer Solo’ still, but that’s fine. Just fine. 

Anything she wants. Really. 

And he’s learned little things. Crumbs of small things that amount to something that feels like hope in his chest. He finds out that Rey never read many comic books, but has read Little Women every summer since she was eleven years old. He discovers she prefers the night shift, when everything is hushed and quiet. And patients aren’t so defensive and on-their-guard. When people feel more ready to talk. He learns those little things like her favorite flower (daffodils), and that she just loves food and could never pick a favorite, and that she’s an only child, but has a few friends she thinks of as her own family. 

It’s little heartwarming things that makes Ben feel confident enough to try for more… Then they go nearly a week without seeing one another, except for small glances here and there. Rey assists with a small outbreak of Dragon Pox, while Ben takes on a new research project. Not wanting to lose valuable ground gained, he decides to leave a note of folded parchment in her cubby. He’s delighted coming to the end of his shift to see she’s answered him and left it in his cubby, too. They continue the exchange the duration of the week. 

Then Rey takes on some extra work into the night shift, too, and the notes cease. 

Ben misses them, but he understands. 

It’s hard being a first year Healer. Hard being and knowing you’re so young, and less experienced. Challenging to convince coworkers and patients you know what you’re doing…

Maybe Hermione was onto something. Maybe he’s been pushing for too much too soon. 

“Oh well,” he mutters to himself. It’s first thing in the morning, and he’s early for his shift, hoping for a glimpse of Rey just after her on-call shift. Her cubby is empty in the employee lounge, which means he’s missed her, but Ben leaves her a short note of encouragement anyways. And something he hopes she’ll find a little clever. Maybe she’ll even laugh...

He decides to take the scenic route through the small garden on the side of the building to get to assigned floor for the day. There’s a bench tucked away and private that he likes to imagine bringing Rey to sometime. Maybe to share some coffee and private laughs… 

Maybe even—

“Rey?” He stops short. Everything stops here in this garden. 

Because there’s _Rey_. On the bench. Rey on the bench he’s thought about many times before… 

Except that she’s crying in her hands. 

Or she _was_. 

Ben must have startled her, because she yanks her head up, eyes wide, but not wide enough to hide the red and sheen of tears. Her cheeks and nose are red, too. Something deep inside Ben’s chest shatters and crumples. And rears itself, ready to eviscerate whomever or whatever did this to her. 

“Oh.” She gives a loud sniffle. “Apologies, Healer Solo.” 

“Are you all right, Healer Niima?” He takes a careful step towards her. 

“Oh. Yes.” She makes an attempt at a brave smile, even as her jaw trembles. “Nothing to worry about. Everything’s all—” Her jaw clamps shut. Hands fly to her cheeks, as if to hold her steady and keep her from crying again. But the tears fill her eyes and she’s shaking her head. “Oh, what’s the use? You’ve caught me now, and it’s all wrong.” 

“Has—that is—is anyone hurt?” It’s funny: Ben’s never considered himself one who doesn’t know what to say. He says a great many things he shouldn’t far too often. But with Rey… 

“They were.” Rey rubs one of her eyes, then her nose. “I made an error last night that I didn’t think was an error at the time. I even told the Medi-Witch I wasn’t tired and was the Healer and knew what I was doing. The Medi-Witches summoned Healer Granger to come in early to check over my method, but that wouldn’t have mattered. The patient’s leg ballooned within five minutes, and now we all know I made the mistake.” 

Ben licks his lips. Folds his fingers together. “Mistakes happen, Healer Niima. We’re not omniscient.” 

“It’s not that, Solo…” Rey sniffs and swipes her hand across her cheek while Ben tries not to make much of the fact she used a less formal name with him. “I was tired. I’ve taken on more shifts and on call duties then we’re supposed to, and I’ve formally reprimanded for it.” 

“That happens, too, Healer Niima,” he says softly. Carefully. Oh, so soft, careful, and gentle. She’s let herself down, and he doesn’t want to add to that. “The first year is the hardest, establishing yourself and learning the Healer you want to be.” 

Rey’s jaw trembles again, and Ben hates himself. Loathes himself, actually. And wants to sink into the ground for making her cry more. 

She clears her throat, then adds, “I could handle that when I first started. But now that means Healer Granger won’t be recommending her for promotion come the end of my first year. I’ll be out of my probationary status, but that’s it. No new rights, privileges, or authority. Just a young Healer.” 

He pauses, sensing the need to tread lightly still. With caution. Then asks, “We weren’t up for any kind of promotion until after three years at the hospital in America. Are people usually promoted so fast in England?” 

“No. But…” She sighs. Wraps her arms around her midsection. “I spent so long proving to everyone in school I belonged. That it didn’t matter I was Muggle-born. All my professors and classmates. Even some housemates.” 

It seems she’s opened the door for Conversation. Serious Talk. And it’s awkward if he continues to stand. He sits on the bench with her. She doesn’t tell him to get up. That makes him bold. Bold enough to venture forward into the Unknown ahead of him. 

“You were already there. At a magical school with them.” His throat bobs as she blinks at him. Holding his gaze. He swallows again. “You were being taught by the same professors, given the same assignments and tests they all were. You make the same magic as any of them, and I bet you were one of the best in your year. It shouldn’t matter where you came from.” 

A sorrow floods her face. One that’s deep and makes him ache down to his marrow. “Perhaps not,” she murmurs. “But it did. It still does. My own parents—” 

She snaps her mouth shut, clapping a hand over her lips. 

Ben leans in her direction, tilting his head. Wanting desperately to understand. To know that he understands issues with parents. Even grandparents, if she had those, too. “What about your parents?” 

Her head shakes slowly. “You don’t want to hear this.”

“I do actually. In case it’s not abundantly clear, I’m very interested in all things that pertain to you, Healer Niima.” 

“Godric, _why?_ ” She scoffs a watery scoff, sniffling again. A new emotion leaks into the sorrow in her eyes: anger. “Is it because I’m young and fresh? Can’t find someone your age, so you on the prowl for someone young and inexperienced? Or am I a puzzle you just want to figure out?”

“Because you’re brilliant.” Ben doesn’t take offense. Not in the slightest. He can’t. Not when he’s heard similar barbs and accusations flung at his Dad all throughout his childhood. Only Dad wasn’t always the best at speaking up when it came to his love for Mom. He would take the blows then brood in martyred silence for _years_ … Better to have it out and be honest at the beginning. “You have the most gracious and compassionate way with patients, Healer Niima. You listen. You care. You’re quick with assessments, while still being thorough. And always right with your conclusions, too.”

“Not always,” she counters. 

He nudges her with his shoulder. “Most of the time, then. But congratulations. Good for you. You’ve proven to yourself you’re human, and are capable of error. Of misdiagnosing, messing up a spell, and even ignoring your own body’s signs and symptoms of exhaustion.” He pauses for her to answer, but she doesn’t. He nudges her again, flashing a hopeful smile. “At least you listen when you’ve been told wrong.” 

“Are you admitting you don’t?” 

“I do. Now.” He shrugged and threaded his fingers together over his lap. “I didn’t always. And being told I’m wrong still isn’t something I like to hear.”

She laughs, soft and slightly watery. But it’s still a laugh. And Ben counts that as a good thing. “No one does, Solo.” 

“See?” They exchange smiles now, and it’s like sharing in something. Something sincere and honest. Vulnerable and new. He doesn’t know if he can remember how to breathe… “I get it with the magical world—not the wanting to prove you belong, part. Mom and her twin brother are legacy children and are each powerful enough in their own rights that my magic was never a question. It did a number on my dad, though. 

“He’s a No-Maj, and something in him felt he’d never measured up. Not compared to Mom. He always felt left out of jokes and serious policy discussions. Always felt slighted and offended over the smallest look or word from my grandfather.” 

“I see.” Rey licks her lips, and something about the pink of her tongue does _things_ to Ben. So. Many. Things. 

Things he needs to shove aside, because Rey’s said something else and he missed it. 

“Pardon?” He blinks at her, confused. 

“Did your grandfather mean it?” she repeats. “Things he’d say to your father?” 

“Most of the time.” Ben hates how that sounds. Hates how bitter and sour the admission tastes on his tongue. “Grandfather Anakin… he’s used to getting his way. Used to being appreciated and admired. Dad wouldn’t take that kind of attitude. He respects hard work, and always talked to Grandfather like he was cheating on a test because of magic.” 

“Oh dear.” Rey bites her lip now, and Ben needs to find a way to make it through this… this Conversation without fixating on her mouth. She continues, “Was that hard on your mum?” 

That does the trick. Rey asking about Mom. Mom’s stern brown eyes find Ben here, and he’s able to focus on being in the moment again. Being active in this Talk. 

“Yeah,” he nods. “Uncle Luke wasn’t much help because he was friends with Dad, but he also worshipped his own father. And Mom would go from one extreme of being so mad at Grandfather for being so proud and harsh to the other extreme of being furious with Dad for giving into his temper and letting it all mess with his head.” 

“I’m so sorry.” She brushes tips of her fingers over his arm, and everything stops once again. 

Because. 

_Because_ …

Rey

Is

Touching. 

Him. 

Something tight squeezes inside him again, and he thinks this may be the closest he’s come to knowing what a heart attack feels like. 

“That can’t have been easy on you,” Rey says softly. As if they’re in their own private world, but she only wants to talk to him. To see him. _To_ _speak to him._

He makes an attempt to swallow, but it’s like there’s sand all in his throat, and he’s all raspy when he answers. “It wasn’t.” He gulps for air, because Rey hasn’t moved her fingers from his arm. “I’m an only child and I loved when we were all together as a family. Then I hated it because they always fought. Then I hated it more because I was old enough to join the fighting, and _that_ always made Grandmother sad.” 

“I’m sorry.” She moves more of her hand to his arm. And. Squeezes. _Squeezes._ “Is it still like that?”

“It’s better. It was worse for years, but even when Dad tried to keep away and we weren’t speaking, Grandmother never stopped loving us. Never gave up hope that we’d all work it out. I guess we all started trying to make things better for her sake more than our own.” 

“I see. But you’re here now?” 

Ben bobs his head. “Yeah. I am. Distance is good sometimes. Fresh starts. Someplace no one immediately knows of my mom, my uncle, or even Grandfather.” 

“Oh. Right. Of course.” Her hand falls away; Ben mourns the loss of her touch instantly. They both stare at her hands as she laces them together over her lap, too. She’s whispering when she speaks next. “My parents hated my magic. Never understood it. Never even tried. They already resented me for the money I cost them growing up, and then thought I saw myself as better than them once I started at Hogwarts.” 

“Did you?” At his worst, Ben thought himself better than his dad. Before he realized they were almost exactly alike in all the good and bad ways father and son can be. 

“Sometimes.” Rey locks her golden-flecked hazel eyes to his. “That’s awful, isn’t it? I would be so angry and hurt… They didn’t want to come to any of my magical friend’s houses for celebration dinners or toasts after we completed seventh year. Mum found a way to get a letter to me a month later, but we don’t talk right now.” 

“I’m sorry.” For the pain it causes Rey, Ben’s sorry for that. Not for the part of him that wants to lecture and shame two such vile humans into showing an ounce of care for their daughter. 

She sighs. “It is what it is for now. I keep wondering if I’ll reach out around Christmas this year… Maybe I will.” 

“You’ll have an excuse for it, and can always feign busyness if it’s not working out.” 

“True.” She bobs her head. “Very true.” 

They don’t speak, and it’s not bad silence. Really, it isn’t. 

There’s a comfort and peace to it. 

But it’s also more of that Unknown Territory Ben fears so. 

And he wants to make sure Rey understands him perfectly here. Now. Before he has to leave for his patients and rounds. “You don’t have to prove yourself here,” he starts, reaching his arm out to rest against hers. His lime green sleeves against hers. His elbow touching hers. “You’re a good healer. We all see it. Promotions will come because you’re smart, hardworking, and have good instincts. But give yourself time. You don’t cast a spell to make Skele-Grow work faster, do you? 

“Of course not!” She’s horrified he would even ask such a question. “Never! That could lead to complications and it could do more harm than good, and—” 

“See?” He gives her a pointed look. “Time, Healer Niima. Time makes better and wiser Healers of us all.” 

“Oh. Thank you.” She’s blushing. It’s a definite pink flooding her cheeks, and not that red from tears he wishes she would never cry again. And there’s a nervous, breathy sound in her words as she says, “Thank you, Ben.” 

Ben. 

_Ben_. 

That’s _his_ name. And _she’s_ said it. 

And… it could all be a cruel trick of his mind. 

He’s cautious in his response. Calculating. “You’re welcome. Healer Niima.” 

“Rey.” The blush deepens as a smile splits her face in two. “I’m Rey.” 

“Rey.” He’s been thinking of her like so for months and months. Hoping, dreaming, and wishing… Never knowing how exquisitely it would taste on his tongue. Like chocolate and buttered bread and a perfect cup of coffee. “I’m Ben.” 

“Thank you, Ben.” She’s smiling still as she lifts herself from the bench. “I guess I better get home and get to that rest my supervisor assigned me to.” 

“Right.” 

He finds himself suddenly standing, too. But he’s not so sure he’s actually standing. In fact, it’s entirely possible his home, in his own bed, asleep. Asleep and caught up in the most wonderful of dreams. 

“What time are you getting off tonight?” she asks, and he’s almost positive he’s dreaming now. 

“Six,” he croaks. 

“How about dinner at seven then? Have you been to Hogsmeade yet?” 

He shakes his head. 

She beams at him. Fucking beams, eyes dancing as she snatches his hand and _squeezes_. 

“You shower and clean off the day, and we’ll meet back here at a quarter to seven. I’ll Apparate us to Hogsmeade and you pick where we eat then. Okay?” 

“Perfect.” 

He doesn’t remember saying that aloud, but he must have. Because Rey’s laughing as she waltzes away. And maybe she isn’t really waltzing, but there’s something ethereal and other worldly and fucking _perfect_ about the way she moves… Lime green robes and all. 

* * *

_Three Months Later_

Ben didn’t know what he was missing before. But life really is _fucking_ perfect now. 

With an emphasis on _fucking._

Because that’s what he and Rey end up doing every spare minute they find together. 

Her place. His place. Random supply closets. The men’s bathroom. Women’s bathroom. Outside behind some trees while having a picnic. 

Before talking. After talking. In between meals and on coffee breaks… 

And now… in the spare minutes they have together. In the on-call room reserved for Healers trying to catch up on sleep. 

Not that either of them will be sleeping. 

Not when he has Rey against the wall and she’s carding her fingers through his hair and they’ve less than fifteen minutes to—

“Healer Solo! Healer Solo!” 

A loud banging sounds from the other end of the door and Ben stills mid-thrust, cursing into Rey’s neck. Merlin, he hates that his conscience won’t let him cast a full encompassing silencing charm. One that doesn’t allow any noise in. 

“You’re needed on the pediatric ward, Healer Solo.” Hermione’s voice rings through loud and… urgent. “A patient has arrived from Hogwarts, and—” 

“It’s Harry, you blood berk!” 

Ben swears again. For Reasons. 

Because he now has another reason for disliking Potter. 

“Poppy says it’s more than she can handle,” Potter continues, pounding on the door, still. “And I don’t care if you’re buried to the hilt in there. Get out and do you bloody job!” 

“James, please,” Hermione soothes. “He’s not in immediate danger. Poppy just said it was unusual, but I can’t treat because it’s a conflict of interest. No need for theatrics.” 

“Come on then.” Rey untangles herself from his grasp, straightening her robes and hair as the couple on the other side of the door continue their lover’s bickering. “Just know that we’re not finished here,” she says with a wink. 

“Damn right we’re not.” Ben adjusts his robes, willing his body into professional submission. “Ready, Healer Niima?” 

She rolls her eyes. “After you, Healer Solo.” 

She’s poised and composed as they exit the room. Reaching for his hand as she asks if she could be of any assistance. 

Some part of Ben isn’t sure how this isn’t all a dream, but he dares not try to wake himself from it. 

Because he’s Rey’s and she calls herself his. 

And. It’s. Perfect. 


End file.
